


Winter Lover

by Righ (Venenum)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, estranged would-be lovers, snowflakes are kisses, you guys didn't want to be happy ever again anyway right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venenum/pseuds/Righ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing, nothing Jamie loves better than winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Lover

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Jack Frost, okay. Shoot me.

There is nothing, _nothing_ Jamie loves better than winter. 

Not the Easter-egg hunts of spring or the presents under his tree at Christmas, they don't rate as highly as a really generous bank of snow waiting to be used for ammo. He loves the way he slides over ice in his old Converse that have no grip like he's the coolest guy in the world and simply has that much _swag_ , reading his books by the pond as snowflakes settle in his hair and sledding down Burgess's streets. 

Until he meets Jack Frost, Jamie never knew that winter is someone tangible that deserves just as much love.

The first time Jack kisses him, he is fifteen with the entirety of the Bennett household full of kids enjoying a birthday party in full swing and it's Jamie's fault that the kiss happens at all. Jack's arrival is heralded with a chilly gust of air, the usual signal to his ward that he's around, ruffling chestnut locks with a flurry of out-of-season snowflakes that melt immediately in the summer sunshine. There's a thud of feet up the stairs as Jamie yells he'll be back in a minute after using the bathroom and the bedroom door slams open, hastily kicked shut as he dashes to the figure climbing through his window.

" _Oof!_ Getting a little too big to be crushing me like that," chuckles Jack, squeezing fondly around shoulders he no longer has to crouch to embrace. 

Jamie laughs and gentles his hold, pressing his face into Jack's deliciously cool hoodie to escape the heat. 

"I _knew_ you'd come! I told Sophie so, she's downstairs if you want to hang out and –"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , little man," breaks in Jack, shaking his head regretfully as Jamie peers up in confusion. To his credit, he really does look chagrined. "I'm only here to give you your birthday present, then I've gotta be on my way."

"But – But _Jack_ –" A winter snarl grasps his lungs, reminiscent of skating too fast or being caught in the beginning of an icy blizzard. Huffing breathlessly past it, Jamie reaches up to furl a loose fist in a collar.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Kind of need to keep Greenland frosty right now, though. Hey, check it out!" Reaching into his pullover, Jack takes out a block of –

"Ice?" Wrinkling his nose as amusement settles back in, Jamie takes the lump that wets his hands.

"Look how disappointed you are," smirks Jack, quirking a knowing brow.

Jamie rails. "I'm not!"

"Sure you are. Like I'd really come all this way to pass off a chunk of a glacier as a present, _jeez_. Have a little faith, kiddo."

The ice melts at a rapid pace when Jack's hand passes over it, leaving a drippy mess on the floor that will need cleaning up before it seeps through the old floorboards but, more importantly, a beautiful old–fashioned compass in its wake.

"Jack," Jamie begins, fairly certain something so finely crafted belongs in one of the museums he's visited. It reflects the light when he holds it up by the chain, opening the filigree clasp to see the dial swerving beneath. "Where did you _get_ this? It looks really expensive."

Shrugging, the spirit meanders around the room to see how it's changed since his last visit, inspecting new drawings tacked on the walls. His glance lilts on Jamie as he speaks.

"Got it from a wreck at the North Pole. It's alright, the only guy who's missing it is long gone by now."

"Jack, I – I really don't know."

"About what?"

"About keeping it. It feels a little like," he pauses, wincing. Offending Jack is the last thing he wants to do when the sun is bright and warm and it's his birthday, and _Jack came all this way in summer_. He swallows. "Stealing?"

Jack towers over Jamie when he moves closer, lean and almost fey were it not for the harsh line of his jaw and the deep voice that Jamie will never, ever grow tired of listening to, just as he knows Jack pays close attention to everything he says too.

A cool hand touches his shoulder. 

"You really are growing up, aren't you?" Something in the way Jack's smile softens at the corners churns a protest in Jamie's stomach, but before he can reply there's a light fist bopping him on the chin. "You're gonna be too old for me soon."

"No!"

He doesn't register flinging his arms around that oh, _so_ familiar frame, clasping hold as Jack blanches and realizes, too late, he's made light of the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"I'll never stop believing in you," Jamie swears, earnest and gripping his present in a fist as another pulls in a long waist, pressing his chest in as though his heartbeat provides life to their acquaintance. "I love my present, I do! I'm sorry, I –"

"Hey, now, _shh_. Wow, I didn't mean to scare you on your birthday ..."

Jamie lets himself be led to the bed where they perch like brothers, though he doesn't let go of the older boy. Not for a second. Even when he sniffs, _Jack, I love you_ , and he hears, _Oh, Jamie_ , gathered up tight with lips pressing chastely into his hair, hands rubbing him bracingly on the back of his new shirt leaving cold imprints. He holds on.

"I'm a Guardian," Jack says quietly, not without returning a nuzzle. "A Guardian of – of Childhood, y'know? We protect kids, not adults." Jamie can feel Jack swallowing, throat against his forehead. "I won't be visible to you forever."

"That's not fair." Everything was so perfect not five minutes ago. Snow in summer and a rare old gift and Jack, Jack who always comes back and laughs like a bell to signal everything is going to be just fine, Jack who Jamie can't even begin to fathom never seeing again. "That's not _fair_ , I don't want to grow up and have birthdays if it means I'm losing you."

"I'm not saying this to ruin your big day, I … Maybe I should just go."

The way Jamie sits up, yanks on that hood and kisses him with enough force to startle them both (Jack is caught at unawares and Jamie can taste _actual frost_ pricking his lips like smooching metal in winter) garners identical gasps. Jack touches his lips and stares, stares into meaningful brown eyes like he's only just seeing them for the first time, reading the hope inspired there by Bunnymund's joy-driven season.

Jamie's heart breaks in the sudden stillness of his bedroom as children laugh and squeal out in the back yard. Jack blinks to come back to himself and touches Jamie's cheek lightly, sympathy that isn't welcome laced around understanding.

"The compass is so you can always find your way North. It's the direction I always found it easiest to bring winter to," he says, and Jamie nods miserably, dropping his gaze. He isn't expecting those same fingers to coax his chin up, or the way Jack's lightest kiss on his lips has been consciously raised to just below room temperature so it doesn't sting this time, soft and experienced and guiding. 

Jamie's breath is white when Jack pulls free, pecking the corner of his mouth. 

"I'll be back this fall to bring an early frost," he says. 

Licking his cool lips, Jamie slides off the bed in a hurry as Jack hops up on his window-sill, staff in hand.

"You're definitely coming back, aren't you?"

Glacier-blue eyes that should be icy in their regard are warm as Jack glances over a shoulder, seemingly drawing several problems into a knot that centers around Jamie and can't be shaken off or ignored. He wishes Jack wouldn't look at him like he's turned into a puzzle that can't be fixed.

"I'll come back, I promise. Keep an eye out for me, okay?"

So he does. All through summer, although he knows Jack won't return until he says – _It's always been a global deal,_ he once confessed, _I can't stick around Burgess indefinitely. Think of how confused everyone in Yemen would be this year without a decent snowfall!_ – but Jamie stands sentry at odd moments during the day regardless. When the wind picks up he finds himself looking at fences and into trees for a familiar figure, but there isn't anyone to be found and his friends call him a daydreamer. 

He doesn't see Jack for another four years.

The second time they share a kiss, it stops Jamie in his tracks. The college campus is empty and the snowdrifts are high (he's always loved winter the best, after all, trekking out for ramen supplies is never a chore) when a snowflake twirls through smaller ones and presses against his lips. He swipes his mouth on the damp shoulder of his coat abruptly, pulling back to see if a bug got anywhere near his nose (Sophie had one up hers once, he remembers how awesome his twelve–year–old self thought it was when she sneezed out a snot–covered greenfly). 

Laughter causes him to turn, frowning around the empty park.

"Hello?"

Boots crunching underfoot, he starts to walk away and stops in his tracks as he wonders who on earth would be hanging out in the frigid conditions.

"… Jack?"

The name quavers uncertainly in the air, quiet in case anyone watching from the buildings nearby thinks he's crazy for talking to no one. There comes no reply, though he strains to see a blue hoodie and crooked staff.

A snowball hits him in the ear.

"Jack!" Laughter bubbles up and he drops his shopping to run off the path into a sparse glade where students ordinarily take lunch in the summer, leaning on the back of a bench as he catches his breath. "C'mon, _please_. Where'd you go?"

He never stopped believing, he wants to say. He just forgot to look for Jack after the first time he missed out on his company that winter when he was fifteen, and then the year after his grandmother died, and then they moved house and, _and_. 

"Jack!" A note of desperation echoes itself out of existence. Tears prick his eyes for the first time since he broke up with his boyfriend last year, unwilling to abate no matter how much he rubs.

"Where _are_ you?" he croaks again, taking off a glove to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

He sinks down on the bench, jeans dampening as frost seeps into the worn fabric, and feels another snowflake land on his lower lip. It makes him want to cry harder, looking up. A shuddering sigh leaves him and he closes his eyes, focusing on breathing the cold air in and out, visualizing Jack's sharp features and tousled mop of silver hair.

For a fleeting moment, he thinks he feels the pressure of lips over his own, a biting chill low enough to cut the corner of them and leave him chapped for the rest of the week.

"Jack," Jamie breathes, willing the spirit to come into being right then and there.

 _You and I are at, what they call, a crossroads_.

Hoarfrost covers his ungloved hand when he looks down, the magic of the moment broken. It extends up his sleeve as if he's been leaning against a wall or someone _ran their icy hand up his arm_.

The third time Jamie knows Jack is close enough to kiss is on his thirty-fourth birthday, coincidentally the same date he shares with his adopted daughter. Sandy is playing with the unicorns from her Auntie Cupcake on the porch when he calls her in. Summer has been soggy this year, hot and sticky, it wouldn't do for her to catch a bug. His husband is busy masterfully governing a group of rowdy kids around the pinata in the lounge and making sure no one loses an eye, so Jamie is alone in the kitchen he grew up in without anyone to hear him sing-songing her name for a second time.

She's chatting to someone when he heads over, pausing to one side of the door.

"Niyth to meet you," she lisps, shaking an invisible hand. The sight freezes Jamie to the spot, a rapt audience as his heart thuds faster to hear the disjointed discussion. "Yeth, it'th my birthday! He'th inthide. Baking me a cake, mmhmm. No, I don't like the rain. Yeth, make it thnow!"

"Sandy?" he heistantly interrupts, darting through the door to crouch at her side, scanning the porch and the lawn for any sign of life. Finding none, Jamie looks down at his daughter giggling with no one, sharing a private joke. "Sandy," he firmly reiterates to get her attention. "Can you see Jack Frost?"

"Yeth, Daddy."

Beaming, he scoops her up and takes the steps to stand in the garden. It could be his imagination (it isn't) but the temperature seems to drop significantly. 

"Sweetie, can you point to where he is?"

Following the line of her little hand, he heads over to the fence where he looks up at where he thinks his old friend might be sitting. Or standing. It feels awful not being able to look Jack in the eye, casting a surreptitious look at the house. No one is looking when Jamie puts Sandy down, a laugh breaking uncertainly as she waves at someone just above the fence and skips back to her toys.

"Jack, stay." The plea bursts free before he can think of something else to say. "Please stay this time. I know I can't see you and I – I don't blame you for staying away if you have, but. Jack, I've missed you."

His chin dips as emotion clogs his throat and Jamie takes a deep, cold breath, comforted by the mist that whirls free in the July air. He must be closer, Jamie reasons, looking in front instead.

"I named Sandy after the Sandman, do you think he likes it?" The one–sided conversation is all they have, he knows, suddenly doubting he ever met Jack Frost because this is _stupid_ , getting upset at the end of his garden when his family is having fun inside, but no, _no, Jack is real, you just have to believe_. The wind stirs and he takes it for a prompt to continue, his smile pained. "She always says she has wonderful dreams, so I think he does. Is everyone else okay?"

Jamie pauses as if listening for an answer.

"I'm glad to hear they're doing well. We all go Easter egg hunting every year – oh! And Sandy's got a loose molar, so give the Tooth Fairy a heads-up."

If it was cold before, he's shivering as fern-like patterns eclipse the sleeves of his shirt, switching to run up his chest; Jamie shudders when he feels something stir the hairs on the nape of his neck and gives him goosebumps, but he can't clasp those long arms he remembers and he doesn't want to make Jack upset enough to retreat, so he stays perfectly still.

When a tear spills down his cheek and freezes, he watches as the wind ( _no, not that_ ) brushes it away.

"I loved you first," he whispers, tilting his chin into a kiss that steals his breath and sends wintry air deep into his lungs, cleansing him completely.

 _Jamie,_ he thinks he hears, cocking his head. The first time he saw Jack, the spirit was overjoyed. He can't imagine what he's going through now when he hears something – a rustle of leaves or a boot cracking the ice on the other side of the street, way past the fence – respond. _Jamie, I'm here._

"He's called Jack too," Jamie confesses in a rush, rueful and unable not to smile at the poor in-joke. "The man I married. In case I – well, I. I said … _your_ name a few times." God, he feels awful. "With other people. So when I met him and he was really, really nice and also called Jack I, I just."

 _He isn't you. He_ should _be._

Throat closing up with guilt and want, it stays cold in the garden all day even after he apologizes and heads over to Sandy when she bumps her knee. 

The snow comes early in October as if it can't wait to smother Burgess in a beautiful blanket, yet all Jamie sees and hears is Jack marking his territory with a pond thick enough to skate on and more snow days than he can remember since he was eight–years–old. No one goes to work for a whole week and it snows every single time Jamie goes outside, a never-ending stream of snowflakes kissing his lips like they never want to stop.

Jamie always did love winter best, but it never occurred to him that winter loved him the most, too.


End file.
